Marrying The Smoker

In the smoke of his existence
I’ll dwell for ever….
If only at once
He takes me into
The fog created by his state of mind;
For ever.
I’ll sit by him
Till dark
Till the moon begins the narration
Of the epics from her memory
And read the same as
Beams of light
In the silence
Where the sky and the stars
In dark sit at their
Respective places
And birds calmly in their nests
and I
By the a shoulder of my love;
Than Moon’s story
I would love to dwell in the
Smoke of my love…
I would rather look into his eyes
From the walls of the smoke
And feel his touch
On my neck
Right where the nerve of breathing rests.
And breathe in the smoke
Just coming from the merry journey
Right from his breathing intrications;
What else this night can bring
In its beauty laden gifts
A smoke touched my him
All set to touch me to the soul…
The merry night
A reverie this to me is
When I sit by his shoulder
and steal his looks
From the walls of smoke….

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